


A Fire Below the Surface

by That_stupid_girl



Category: Lemonade Mouth (2011)
Genre: Also I named her brothers, Coming Out, Eating Disorders, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, but it's incredibly minor, they're in college now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9173605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_stupid_girl/pseuds/That_stupid_girl
Summary: It's not that she doesn't want to tell them now, and it's not that she didn't want to tell them before, it's just that she's never been good at talking about herself and it could go so poorly so easily.orThe one where Stella is gay and totally fine with it except for the telling people she knows part.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus Christ this is awful but honestly so is the movie so.

Lemonade Mouth doesn’t break up until their senior year. Or, they don’t _completely_ break up until senior year, really.

Scott’s… controlling, to say the least, and he has some weird hero complex that none of them are _at all_ into, so when Mo breaks up with him at the very beginning of junior year, it isn’t a surprise to anyone except Scott himself. The band never actually has a conversation about him leaving, but he doesn’t show up for rehearsal the day after Mo calls it off, and then his guitar is gone a few days later, so he’s out of the band. Charlie tries to ask about it one night in Stella’s basement, but Mo tenses up and shrugs it off and they drop it.

They keep making an effort to make music for most of junior year, but it’s difficult. None of them, not even Stella, imagined they would get this big. By the end of junior year they’ve played Madison Square Garden _twice_ and they’re still in school. (Stella honestly was never all that happy about the staying in school part, but it wasn’t even a question for Mo and Olivia, and Charlie’s parents were tentative enough about the music thing already.)

The first semester of junior year ends and then it’s college apps and standardized tests and _so much homework_ and it’s hard to make new music; it’s hard to make _time_ to make new music. They start doing schoolwork more and rehearsing less and they still hang out all the time, but the band sort of falls through the cracks of textbooks and movie nights.

Still, they don’t officially break up until the beginning of the next school year, which is honestly longer than Stella thought they would last, as shitty as that sounds. It’s gradual, really, and everyone sees it coming (or the five of them do, at least), and then it’s one conversation and they’re just friends and not a band.

Stella’s probably the most upset, but even she doesn’t think it’s that bad. It was a great three years of music and she’s never had friends like this before. (None of them have.)

Wen’s stepmom has a baby junior year. Charlie cuts his hair shorter and Stella grows hers out. She doesn’t come out all of highschool. She doesn’t tell anyone about her crushes—the _girls_ she likes—or the way she learns their drink orders and the shampoo they buy or the way she hates herself for it.

Mo dates a guy named Chris for two months at the end of junior year then breaks up with him. Charlie breaks up with Victoria around the same time, but no one thought they would even last six months, yet alone _twenty_ -six, so they both count it as a good relationship, anyway. Wen and Olivia only break up once, for two months sophomore year when Olivia’s too stressed to talk to him and he ends up confronting her on the anniversary of her mom’s death, and it’s an awkward two months, but everyone knows they’ll get back together.

And then they graduate in May of 2015. Mo’s salutatorian, because of course she is, and without the band she can focus even more on grades than before. (Which, honestly, Stella didn’t really think was possible, but Stella’s sort of the opposite of smart, so that’s not surprising.)

They hang out basically all summer, except the two weeks Stella goes to California for some science thing her mom’s doing (and makes out with a cute girl with pink hair and serious freckles at her cousin’s party) and the different two weeks that Mo goes to India.

Olivia leaves for college first. She says goodbye to her grandmother and she and Wen leave for California at the beginning of August. They drive the full day to LA and stay in a hotel for a few nights, and then Wen’s dad, sister, and step-mom join them to help Olivia get settled in and to drive Wen up to Washington.

Mo and Charlie leave on the same day a week after Olivia and Wen. Mo’s flight to Providence leaves less than two hours before the flight to Denver and Stella goes to the airport with both their families. She leaves three days later for New York.

They keep in touch, sort of. They have a group chat and a lot of (short, pointless) conversations. Wen and Olivia see each other (almost) every two weeks. Stella and Olivia talk on the phone every week or so, and Stella’s pretty sure Mo and Liv do the same. Mo drives down to New York on a long weekend in October and spends a day with Stella. They meet each other halfway in New Haven for a day in November. Mo texts her about good movies that they both have no time to see.

Stella dyes her hair blonde. Like, _blonde_ blonde, and doesn’t tell any of them she’s gay. She tells her roommate the second day she knows her and drinks that night to try to ignore the guilt. In New Haven, Mo asks if she has a boyfriend like she knows the answer and Stella says no and changes the subject and ignores the quickening pulse in her neck and the way her knees go jello.

None of them see each other over Thanksgiving; only Olivia goes back home. The rest of them are just as scattered as always, in various relatives’ homes across the country. The last few weeks after break are a push for all of them.

A week before Stella’s exams Olivia calls her like usual. Stella’s been in her room all day, pretending to study but actually watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine and writing dumb poetry. She’ll probably go out tonight, but she didn’t get back until almost four this morning so it’s not for sure.

Her phone buzzes on the desk beside her and lights up with a picture of Olivia. Stella closes her notebook and tries not to feel guilty.

“Hey, Liv.” She draws her knees up and leans against them, pausing the show on her laptop.

“Hey! How are you?” Olivia sounds just as sincere as always, and it’s getting hard for Stella not to tell her; it’s getting hard for her not to tell anyone, but it’s also scary. Which, like, she’s performed in front of thousands of people and she’s _still_ a wimp.

“I’m good, yeah. Done nothing all day.” She picks up her pencil and spins it between her fingers. She doesn’t know why she feels so weird. “Not even wearing makeup,” she adds. Liv laughs through the phone.

“Netflix?”

“Yeah. Or, no actually. I’ve just been watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine and writing for the past few hours.”

“Haven’t you seen every episode of that?” Olivia underestimates her dedication (to shows with openly gay characters, people of color, and strong women). Instead of answering Stella just laughs, which is clearly a yes. “What’re you writing?” Olivia asks. Stella’s heart stutters in her chest and she hates it.

“Um, just poetry. You know, young love and flings and all,” she forces a laugh. It sounds a little too nervous, Stella's sure. There’s a pause on the other line.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Olivia says, cliché as she is. Stella actually laughs at this, because she does, really, she just hasn’t.

“Yeah, Liv, I know. How’re your exams going?” Olivia groans.

“I mean they’re going fine, I just hate them.” Stella nods. “I only have two more, thank god. And then I’m driving up to meet Wen on Wednesday.” She still sounds lovesick, even after four years. Stella smiles.

“Gross.” Olivia laughs. This is how most of their conversations go. Stella’s just not the best at talking to people, especially when she feels inordinately guilty for not telling them she’s gay. “What’s been the worst?” she asks, opening a new tab on her computer.

She scrolls aimlessly through Facebook as Liv complains about an obscure science class. It’s not that she’s not listening, because she is (Olivia says, “It’s not that I don’t like it, I just feel like most other people are more invested than me” and Stella hums her understanding), she just has a hard time focusing on one thing. Especially if that one thing is a phone call.

Olivia’s talking about a different class now and how bullshit the exam was (in nicer words, of course) and Stella doesn’t stop her until:

“What the fuck, Liv, you dyed your hair?” Stella’s mouse stills over the picture Olivia posted yesterday of her reddish— _very_ reddish—hair. She clicks to like it anyway, but moves her hand from the computer.

“Oh, um. I’m sorry,” Olivia mumbles, and for a second she sounds like she did in high school, at the beginning, and Stella feels bad.

“No, I’m not mad. At all. Mostly joking. It’s been a boring day. _I’m_ sorry.” She hopes Olivia can tell she’s smiling.

“Okay, yeah. You dyed _your_ hair, so…” she trails off and Stella can imagine her sitting in her own dorm room.

“Yeah, but _I_ told _you_. _You_ didn’t tell _me_ ,” Stella whines, still smiling. Olivia scoffs.

“I didn’t really think it was a super important life decision or anything?” She’s joking, now, and Stella’s much more comfortable with this. She almost mumbles something about Olivia probably telling Mo, but if there’s anything Liv’s good at it’s picking people’s jokes apart. Last time Stella said something like that Olivia talked to her for almost ten minutes to make sure she wasn’t jealous of Mo. (As awkward and annoying as it was, Stella appreciates it so much; she’s never had anyone care as much as her four former bandmates.) And Stella’s not jealous—really, she isn’t—but maybe she is just a tiny bit. Like, a  _minuscule_ amount. Which is normal, because Mo’s basically a genius, or at least the kind of daughter her parents probably wanted.

But more than jealousy or anything, it’s too close to being personal, and Stella doesn’t want to do personal right now. She _can’t_ do personal right now. Being at college, being in _New York_ , has made Stella so much more confident with herself and who she is and her sexuality, and the friends she’s made here all know her as _her_ , and she feels immensely guilty that she hasn’t told anyone from back home. She felt guilty she hadn’t told anyone even before she left, but she feels worse now.

It’s just _hard_ , though, because she didn’t have to do this with her new friends. They didn’t know her before, so it was no stakes, no surprise, really, and it’s different, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel awful. She feels especially shitty for not telling Olivia, but she doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. So she doesn’t.

“Anyway,” Olivia says. “Got a boyfriend?” It’s sort of a joke between them, now, because Liv would ask all the time at the beginning of the year and every time Stella would say no (because she’s gay), and now it’s just a thing Olivia does. Stella thinks it’s funny, but it also makes her chest hurt and her heart drop every time without fail.

“No,” Stella laughs, fake smile and everything. She’s pretty sure this time Olivia doesn’t realize how forced it sounds. She hooked up with a girl last night, but she doesn’t tell Olivia that. She doesn’t tell Olivia about the girl in her couture/culture class that smells like jasmine tea and smiles like the sun, either. It makes her throat catch. She swallows around the lump. “I can’t wait to see you. And everyone,” Stella says, because anything that will change the subject at this point is preferable.

“Me too!” Olivia rattles on for a few more minutes about how happy everyone will be to see each other. They hang up—“I love you’s” and all—and Stella can do this. She can. Two more weeks. Just two more weeks and then she’s home (and then it’s Christmas) and she sees her friends (and her family) and she either comes out to them or she doesn’t. It’s simple. She has two more weeks and then a month of either being ambiguously straight or turning into a completely different person who can actually do shit, like tell people she's gay. (So probably the former, if the past nineteen years of her life are anything to go by.)

Her exams go okay, all things considered. Stella’s not particularly smart, but she’s not particularly stupid either, and she’s sure as shit determined as hell, so her exams go okay. She flies back to New Mexico on Christmas Eve and it’s horribly warm. It’s really not any colder in New York, what with the global warming and all, but still. It’s Christmas. It shouldn’t be this hot, and the ten degrees, barren land, and inescapable sun really do make a difference.

Her mom picks her up at the airport and for a second Stella feels like it might be best to just go ahead and tell her now, but then she realizes that the holidays would be a disaster if she took it poorly, so, no. (It's not that she thinks she  _will_ take it poorly; it's more than she and her mother have never been all that close, have never seen eye-to-eye on a lot of things, and she's not one hundred percent sure this won't be one of them.)

She doesn’t see anyone from Lemonade Mouth until two days after Christmas. Wen and Olivia both got out like, a solid week and a half before Stella, and they’ve been virtually inseparable, but Mo only got back a day before Stella, and Charlie’s family flew up to meet him and some relatives in Colorado, so Stella doesn’t see any of them until the twenty-seventh.

Christmas is good. Her brothers are brilliant as always (apparently Timmy won the science fair and Tom’s pissed about it because he came in second) and her parents ignore her slightly less than usual. Her dad’s (incredibly conservative) family is there when Stella gets into town, but all of them except for Aunt Amy leave the day after Christmas. Which, _thank god_ , because they are _so_ conservative and Stella’s having a hard enough time deciding ~~when~~  if she should come out as is.

Then, two days after Christmas, Olivia calls, because apparently Olivia still doesn’t get how texting works.

“Hi!” she chirps. “Sorry, just, I’m excited! We’re all going over to Wen’s tonight!” And she really does sound excited, and suddenly Stella’s outrageously excited, too. She spends a ridiculous amount of time deciding what to wear before she throws on a pair of black jeans and one of her favorite t shirts (white with a pastel blue colored Jupiter) and says fuck it. She pulls a pair of silver-grey oxfords on and leaves.

She takes her mom’s car and pulls her hair into a sloppy bun at a red light on the way to Wen’s. She can’t wait to see everyone. Her fingers tap out Charlie’s drumbeat and she’s humming “Determinate” without realizing it.

There’s a car that she recognizes as Mo’s in Wen’s driveway, and she pulls the Prius in behind it so there’s still room for Wen’s parents or anyone to get by if need be. She doesn’t even need to take a deep breath (except she does, so she takes it anyway) before marching up to Wen’s door and knocking on the wood.

Olivia opens the door just moments later, and there’s a second of the two of them standing, stock still, and staring. Olivia looks good. Her hair is darker and redder and shorter and she looks comfortable, barefoot in cuffed jeans and a USC t shirt (and Wen’s house), and college has probably been good for her, too. Then Olivia squeals, pulling Stella into a hug on the threshold.

“It’s so good to see you,” Stella mumbles into Olivia’s hair. It smells like apples and vanilla and Stella’s chest hurts with the relief of not having to miss people any longer.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Olivia whispers. They stay like that for almost a full minute before Olivia pulls away, holding Stella at arm’s length and smiling. “Wen and Mo are downstairs,” she finally says. Stella nods.

“Wait, take off your shoes,” Olivia tells her. Stella raises her eyebrows but complies, toeing her oxfords off and leaving them next to what can only be Mo’s ballet flats by the door. “Wen’s dad is very protective of his new floors,” she explains. Stella nods. Olivia takes her hand as they walk towards the basement and Stella feels a pang of guilt for not telling her. Her lungs start to tighten, but they’re already on the stairs by that point, and before she has time to really think it through she sees Wen and Mo on the couches.

They both jump up as soon as they see her. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Mo smile this much. Stella might start crying.

Wen gets to her first, and he throws his arms around her, squeezing. His shirt is soft in a worn out kind of way and it tickles when his sleeves brush the back of her neck. Stella squeezes him back. He’s a little thinner, but not worryingly so, and he still smells the same (a weird combination of old wood, lemongrass, and Liv’s vanilla lotion), and Stella is _so_ glad to see him.

As soon as he pulls away Mo’s taking his place. She holds Stella just as tightly and Stella’s like forty percent sure Mo’s crying. Stella wraps her arms around Mo’s waist and breathes in the cardamon and sugar that is Mohini and smiles.

“You look great,” Mo says upon pulling away and, honestly, so does Mo, but she’s lost weight, more than Wen has, and Stella’s actually very good at worrying about her friends. But she does look good. Her hair is shorter and her makeup is darker and even though Stella’s not too happy about the collarbones she can see under Mo’s t shirt, Stella will admit she’s as gorgeous as ever.

Stella grins at her, and then they hear the doorbell, which Stella didn’t even know existed, and they’re all running up the stairs. Then Charlie’s there, his hair shorter and shirt tighter (Stella _sort of_ thought he might have been photoshopping his social media pictures, but apparently he’s not, and she can admit that, was she not gay and had she not known Charlie for years, she'd find him incredibly attractive), but otherwise exactly the same. There’s another round of hugs.

They watch a movie, first, the second _Scream_ movie, which Mo pretends to hate and Olivia pretends to love and refuses to admit terrifies her. It’s almost eight by the time the movie’s over, and none of them have eaten. After only minimal whining about his empty stomach from Charlie, Olivia calls the pizza place. Stella’s heart swells when Olivia still remembers what to order, but she’s honestly not surprised.

“It’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Olivia announces, slipping her phone back onto the coffee table. Wen and Charlie glance at each other.

“We’ll go pick it up,” Wen says, already standing. “Also grab some beer.”

“If that’s okay with Mo, of course,” Charlie adds, halfway to the door.

“Oh my god, seriously you guys? You’re never going to let me live that down,” Mo whines, rolling her eyes and dropping her head into her hands to the laughter of the others. “We’re all adults anyway,” she mumbles after they leave. Which, okay, Olivia and Charlie are both still eighteen, but they all voted in the local elections, and so, yeah: adults. They hear the front door close and a car pull away a few seconds later.

“I’m gonna go pee,” Mo says. She pushes herself up off the couch and heads upstairs, too. Olivia turns to Stella, grinning. She leans back, looking at Stella on the other sofa. Stella turns towards her, as well, crossing her legs in front of her.

“So. How have you been these past few weeks?” Stella can’t help but smile back. She’s really missed her.

“Fine. It’s been somehow both super busy and horribly uneventful,” Stella jokes. Liv laughs in agreement.

“So…” Olivia drawls. “Do you have a boyfriend,” she asks, eyes twinkling and mouth quirked.

“No.” Stella rolls her eyes and hopes Olivia can tell it’s good natured. Olivia pauses. Stella can definitely hear her own heart beat.

“Okay but for real, I know I joke about that and stuff, but I really don’t understand why you don’t. Unless you're just not looking to date, of course, and that's totally fine! Obviously. Like, you’re an absolute catch, and—”

“I’m gay.” It’s somehow both rushed and stilted. Olivia halts. Stella’s eyes go wide—comically so, she’d assume—because she one hundred percent was not planning on saying that to Olivia, who’s probably her best friend, and who says things like “you’re a catch” unironically, and whom Stella loves with all her heart, and, _shit_ , Stella really did not mean to say that. At all. Fuck. Her throat starts to tighten up and Olivia still hasn’t said anything, or even really moved.

“Do you have a girlfriend then?” Olivia finally says. Stella wants the tension in her chest to dissipate but Olivia sounds… weird, and almost disappointed, and Stella doesn’t know what to say.

“I, no.” It’s hard to talk around the lump in her throat and she’s barely able to get the words out. She can’t read Olivia’s face. She’s gone stone stoic.

“But you’ve known for, what? At _least_ all of this year?” Olivia sounds somehow sad, pissed, _and_ loving. Stella might be imagining the last one, though.

“Since… Since seventh grade, yeah,” she whispers. Olivia goes pale almost immediately and Stella wants to throw up. She shouldn’t have done this. She doesn’t know why she thought this was a good idea. “We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry. I just… I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I just—”

“Oh my god, Stella, _no_ ,” Olivia exclaims. Stella can’t tell if she’s mad or not. “That’s not what I… No.” She stops herself, takes a deep breath, and continues. Stella can feel the tears behind her own eyes and she wishes this was not happening.

“Did you think you couldn’t tell me?” Olivia asks after a moment, her voice just above a whisper. “Like, in high school, but also… I asked you about a boyfriend every time I called and you didn’t… I’m sorry if you thought you couldn’t tell me.” Olivia stops like she doesn’t know how to continue and Stella _needs_ to say something, but she can barely even swallow.

“No, it’s not— It’s just hard. You’re the first person from home I’ve told—” And Stella’s crying, now, which is not super ideal; it makes it even harder to talk and is also mortifying. She brings her hand up to her mouth to try to cover it up somehow, but it doesn’t work. She’s just sobbing on Wen’s couch with her hand over her mouth.

Olivia’s up within nano-seconds, though, closing the short distance between them in less than a heartbeat. She sits down on the couch in front of Stella, tucking her legs to the side, and pulls the other girl towards her. Stella complies almost instantly, and then she’s leaning against Olivia while she cries. It’s mostly embarrassing because she doesn’t even know why she’s crying; she’s not ashamed of who she is or whom she likes, but she’s still full-on bawling. And it’s embarrassing, but Olivia is rubbing her back and whispering about how proud she is, and it honestly feels good to cry.

She hears feet on the stairs and the moment Mo walks in and now would be a great time to stop sobbing, but she sort of can’t.

“Uh.” Stella’s still crying, but she’s laughing now, too. She pulls away from Olivia slightly, wiping at her eyes. It’s a good thing she isn’t wearing much makeup. “Everything okay?” Mo asks, still standing in the middle of the room. Olivia looks immediately to Stella.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine,” Stella tells her, smiling and only crying a little. She takes a deep breath. “I’m gay.” Mo doesn’t even flinch.

“Are we upset about that? Or…” she trails off, drawing her eyebrows together. Olivia’s shaking her head before Mo’s even done with the sentence, and Stella definitely wants to hug her.

“No. No, I just… I haven’t told anyone, or. No. I _hadn’t_ told anyone from home and I told Olivia and I just didn’t know I would start crying,” she tries to explain. Mo shrugs, then moves to take the open seat on Stella’s other side. (Stella’s secretly _so_ relieved that Mo doesn’t seem to hate her, because she’s probably the most conservative out of all of them and it’s more of a relief than Stella would like to admit.)

“That makes sense, though, to get emotional. Especially if you haven’t told a lot of people you’ve known for a while,” Mo says. Olivia leans forward.

“Are you not, like…” What she’s trying to ask is why Mo is having, like, the opposite of a reaction, but Stella doesn’t really care; she’s willing to count it as a positive and move on. There’s a few seconds of silence, then:

“I sort of already knew,” Mo admits. Olivia’s nose scrunches up as she leans back to look at Mo and Stella can’t help that her heart stops. “Or, I mean, I heavily suspected. I'm kind of surprised you were surprised, actually,” she tells Olivia.

“How?” Stella asks. She hopes her voice doesn’t sound as small as it feels.

“Besides all the things from high school and you never having a boyfriend even though you’re gorgeous, you have a gay flag in your dorm room.”

“I said that was my roommate’s,” Stella points out, trying to bring her voice above a whisper. Mo raises her eyebrows at her and purses her lips. Stella can’t help but shrink in on herself slightly, but she also wants to laugh. Mo rolls her eyes but takes Stella’s hand, running her thumb along the heel of Stella’s own as she continues.

“It’s over your bed, Stell. Please. I’m not an idiot. Secondly, you saw Pitch Perfect 2 in theaters I think four times, which is only notable because I went with you twice and listened to you complain about Beca and Jesse. And you were staring at our waitress the whole time in that restaurant in New Haven.” Stella’s pretty sure her face goes bright pink. Olivia laughs. Stella’s not sure what to say.

“Oh,” she finally decides on.

“I just thought you didn’t want to talk about it or something,” Mo tells her. Stella shrugs.

“I mean, yeah, sort of. I don’t know. It’s just hard, because there’s always a chance someone’s not going to take it well and then I’d lose them forever,” she admits. She can literally _feel_ Mo rolls her eyes. Olivia scoots closer to her, taking Stella’s other hand in both of her own.

“Yeah, but not us, dummy,” Mo says, and it honestly means more to Stella than she can ever say. It’s quiet for a few minutes while Mo rubs her thumb softly over Stella’s wrist and Olivia plays with Stella’s fingers.

“So,” Mo says, breaking the silence. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Stella can’t help but blush. She extracts her hand from Mo’s to push the hair out of her face. She shakes her head, smiling.

“Do you _want_ a girlfriend?” Mo asks.

“Like, specifically?”

“Yeah.” Stella blushes deeper and that’s as much of an answer as Mo and Olivia need. Liv squeals softly, because of course she does, and Mo laughs. “What’s she like?” Stella can’t help but doubt whether or not they’re actually cool with hearing about living, actual, concretely real girls she likes.

“Are you sure you want to hear about…” Olivia’s grip on her hand tightens.

“Shut up. Of course. Don’t be ridiculous,” Liv says, sounding slightly rushed and slightly like her throat is closing up. It takes everything Stella has to not look up at them and try to read their faces.

“I, okay. Her name is Emma,” Stella starts, and Olivia squeals again.

“Sorry. I’ve never heard you talk about people you like, though. It’s exciting.” Stella can’t help but smile.

“She’s in my fashion class and she’s friends with my roommate. She’s… I don’t know. She’s just really pretty and really nice and really smart. What do you want me to say? She has dark hair and dark eyebrows and brown eyes and, like, _ridiculous_ cheekbones and really nice… lips.” Mo laughs. Stella glares at her. “She plays soccer and she wants to be a social worker or a teacher. I just really like her. I don’t know what you want me to say,” Stella finishes. She’s pretty sure her face is at _least_ tomato red by now. Neither Mo nor Olivia say anything for a bit.

“Oh my god!” Mo exclaims. Stella and Olivia both flinch. “Sorry,” Mo says, though she doesn’t sound it. “Is she the one we sat with at lunch? With your roommate and that guy?” Mo asks Stella. She has to think back to October, and she can’t remember at first whether or not Emma was there, except then she remembers worrying that Mo would start talking about something embarrassing Stella had done in high school.

“Yep. That was her.”

“Well you definitely have good taste. She’s absolutely _gorgeous_ , Liv,” Mo adds.

“I feel very left out. Mo knows who you’re—” The front door opens. They hear Wen and Charlie’s footsteps from upstairs.

“Are you gonna tell them?” Olivia asks. Stella shrugs.

“If it comes up. I don’t want to like…” Charlie laughs as he and Wen stumble down the stairs, high school boys all over again. Olivia squeeze’s Stella’s hand. Mo gives her a reassuring glance.

“So anyway, I told him that I wasn’t interested, and then he took his _shirt_ off,” Mo says, and Stella has never loved her more. She stops when the boys come in, but it’s natural and believable and Stella feels so much ridiculously better than she did an hour ago.

Wen and Charlie place, or rather dump, three pizza boxes, some paper plates, and three six-packs on the coffee table. Stella sees Olivia wince, presumably for the sake of Wen’s furniture. They open the pizza boxes and it’s exactly the same as it’s always been: one Hawaiian, one meat lovers, and one margherita. Wen and Charlie plop down on the available sofa, but not without Wen pouting in Olivia’s direction.

Charlie loads four pieces of the meat lovers onto his plate and grabs a cheap beer before tossing one to Mo, who almost doesn’t catch it. He goes to throw another at Stella, but just barely avoids hitting Wen—three pieces of Hawaiian, his own beer, and all—and ends up just passing it down to her. Olivia grabs a piece of the margherita and a piece of the Hawaiian, and Stella almost laughs, because Liv sort of hates Hawaiian pizza, or she did, at least, but Wen loves it, and Olivia is willing to make this compromise since Wen does the same with her cookie dough ice cream.

Stella grabs three pieces of margherita and leans back in time to see Mo pulling away with just one. Which is fine, really, except Stella can’t help but worry. Or she could, actually, but she’s not going to. Mo is thinner and she’s not eating as much and it’s worrying Stella, but now isn’t the time to say anything.

She watches Mo the rest of the night, though, as Charlie takes three more pieces, and Wen takes two more pieces, and Olivia takes one more piece, and then splits another with Stella, and Mo does not take any more pizza. She eats one slice and drinks one beer and no one else seems to notice until they’re done eating and Olivia’s closing the pizza boxes and counting the slices and they have about twice as many leftover pieces as usual. She makes eye contact with Stella, then shoots her eyes over to Mo and Stella shrugs, minisculely, and raises her eyebrows the smallest amount, but now is not the time.

Stella does come out to Wen and Charlie, later, and Wen is his usual supportive self (and almost as unsurprised as Mo) and Charlie tries to figure out her type by making her rate celebrities. It’s somehow exactly what she would have expected if she’d allowed herself to hope this would happen so easily.

There’s not enough room at Wen’s for them all to sleep comfortably, so they decide that Mo (who is the most sober by far) will drive Olivia and Stella back to Stella’s in the Prius and Liv and Mo will come by for their own cars in the morning.

It’s not _that_ late by the time they get back to Stella’s, but it’s still nearing one in the morning so they try their very best to keep quiet as Stella unlocks the door and leads them upstairs. When they get to Stella’s room, Olivia immediately collapses on Stella’s bed dramatically. Mo closes the door softly behind her and laughs.

“Do you have clothes, Stell?” Olivia asks, still flat on the bed. “Or at least pants? Like, for sleeping,” Olivia clarifies.

“Oh, yeah. One sec.” She rummages through the drawers she hasn’t opened in months and turns back with a pair of basketball shorts, a pair of Nike tempos, and a pair of men’s boxers. Mo grabs the tempos from her hand as Stella tosses Liv the pair of basketball shorts.

“Hey, is it okay if I take a shower?” Mo asks, somehow casual and forced. “I just feel gross.” Stella nods.

“Yeah, you can use like my shampoo and shit.” Mo smiles at her and steps into the bathroom. A few seconds later Stella hears the water turn on. She turns back to Olivia, who’s making a courageous attempt at sliding her jeans off while still lying flat on the bed. Stella’s not sure if it’s more awkward to keep watching her or to turn away. Olivia finally gets her pants off and is able to get the shorts on with significantly more grace. She reaches under her shirt and unhooks her bra, pulling it out through a sleeve with a bit of maneuvering. She tosses it across the room and it lands on Stella’s doorknob. Stella lets out a bark of laughter and Olivia’s eyebrows start doing something that Stella _thinks_ is supposed to be fake sexy.

Stella wants to change into the boxers she’s holding, but she feels like that might be weird somehow. Obviously she’s changed in front of Olivia before, but Olivia didn’t know she was gay, and she doesn’t know the protocol for this. She continues to stand there and doesn’t realize Olivia’s staring.

“Hey, Stell.” Stella looks up, drawn out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Whatcha doing?” she smiles, waving her hands at Stella’s strange stance and the boxers in her hand.

“Umm. I just… I didn’t know if like it’d be weird for me to…” she trails off as Olivia realizes what she’s saying.

“Stella,” she whispers, and she sounds sort of devastated, which is sort of embarrassing.

“No, I mean I know you’re like, fine with it. I just didn’t want to make it weird or—”

“Stella.” Liv’s glaring at her, now, and she sounds more angry than devastated. Stella just nods, because obviously Olivia wasn’t going to care. She strips off her pants and tosses them on her floor (with the rest of her clothes) before slipping the boxers up her legs. She turns away from Olivia before she tugs her shirt up over her head, dropping it on the floor as well. She keeps her bra on until she finds a shirt—short, grey, and soft—to change into, then she unclasps her bra, letting it drop to the floor before she pulls the shirt on.

She turns back to Olivia, who scooches over slightly on Stella’s bed to make more room for her. Stella complies, walking over and flopping down beside Olivia. They lie pressed against each other on their backs, staring at Stella’s ceiling (which is bright blue with clouds, of course). The only noise is the uneven sound of the water from the bathroom, then:

“Mo’s not eating,” Olivia whispers. Stella’s breath catches in her throat, even though it’s not news.

“I know. I saw her less than two months ago. She’s way thinner.” Another minute of silence.

“Sophomore year, before she broke up with Scott…” Olivia trails off. “Oh god,” she laughs. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m tipsy and worried, so: sophomore year she had a lot of problems with food. She did a really good job of hiding it. I only found out because I,”—Olivia takes a shaky breath—”I walked in on her making herself throw up,” Olivia says, voice getting softer and thicker as she goes on.

“It was only for a few months, and it got better after she broke up with Scott, but I just… I don’t want that to be happening again,” she whispers. Stella hears her swallow, four times, and then take a few deep breaths. She gropes around for Olivia’s hand, and squeezes it tightly when she finds it.

“I know,” Stella whispers back. They stay like that, holding hands and worrying, and Olivia’s able to speak without her voice shaking by the time they hear the water shut off.

Mo walks out with her wet hair slung up in a bun. She drops her (folded) clothes on the floor and joins Stella and Olivia on the bed, pushing against Stella to get her to scoot over. There’s quite a bit of shuffling around as Olivia gets out of bed to pee, and then Stella has to brush her teeth or her mouth will feel gross, and then when she gets back in bed they have to maneuver themselves under the covers, and then Mo has to get up to turn off the lights, and then it’s dark and quiet.

Stella feels Olivia turn over so her back’s to the wall.

“Hey, Stell,” she says, voice so soft that Stella’s sure Mo has to strain to hear. Stella hums her acknowledgement. “Have you told your family?” Stella can’t help that she tenses up rather drastically; it’s a knee-jerk reaction, but she’s back to being only a little tense after just a few seconds. Mo moves even closer, throwing her arm across Stella and cuddling up to her in what Stella is sure is supposed to be an expression of solidarity and comfort.

“No. I’m going… I need to tell my mom. Soon. This break.” The pillow moves under Stella’s head when Olivia nods. “It’s really… lonely, not being out,” she admits in a whisper. Olivia pulls closer to her, too, then, and they’re all cuddling, which reminds Stella so much of old times that she feels drastically nostalgic. She’s hit with a sudden wave of _love_ for her friends, all of them, and she’s so glad that she has them.

“Make sure to text us when you do,” Olivia mumbles, clearly growing more and more tired by the second. “So we can be proud and supportive.” Stella and Mo both laugh at that, but Stella also feels Mo nodding her agreement, and it makes Stella feels ridiculously lucky and loved.


	2. Chapter 2

Stella is somehow both freezing and sweating when she wakes up, not under the covers but sandwiched between Mo and Olivia. The room is horribly bright, and when Stella leans over Mo to check the clock on her bedside table she sees that it’s almost one. She groans.

“Me too,” Mo says from halfway under her. Stella does the equivalent of a reclining jump. Mo laughs.

“Jesus. I didn’t know you were awake,” Stella mumbles, wiping the palm of her hand across her face in an attempt to wake herself up more. They lie in silence for a few more minutes. Stella needs to pee.

“I have to be home in less than an hour,” Mo says, even though she’s an adult who should be able to stay a friend’s house for however long she wants. “Can you wake up Liv?” Stella groans again.

“But she’s so peaceful,” she whines.

“Please?” And Mo sounds softer than she usually does, somehow, so Stella sighs dramatically but turns towards Olivia, anyway. She pushes against her, first with just her hands and then with her entire body until Olivia lurches forward, into a sitting position, seemingly terrified by the abrupt awakening.

“You could have been a bit nicer about that,” she mutters, bleary from sleep. “What time is it?” she yawns.

“One-ish,” Stella says. Olivia sits up straighter at that

“Oh geez. We should get going.” She stretches her arms up, arching her back and yawning again. At Olivia’s cue, Mo gets out of bed, also stretching. Stella stumbles out after her and heads straight for the bathroom.

The three of them are ready (ish) and out of Stella’s room in ten minutes, tired and entirely bare-faced. Olivia and Mo are both wearing what they were last night, and Stella’s in the shirt she slept in with a pair of old jeans and a large southwestern printed jacket. They all look younger, more like high school, or like they haven’t _quite_ given up appearances during finals week.

Stella’s mom is in the kitchen making lunch for herself, but no one else is anywhere in sight. She looks up when they patter downstairs, clearly surprised.

“Hi, Mrs. Yamada,” Mo says, soft smile and kind eyes, a sort of apology for sleeping at her house without her permission.

“Hi, girls,” Stella’s mom says, recovering quickly enough. “How are you?”

“We’re good, Mrs. Yamada,” Olivia tells her. Stella sees Mo subtly check her phone from the corner of her eye.

“Mo's just driving us back by Wen’s to get our cars,” Stella explains, starting to move towards the door. Her mom nods, and Stella knows full well that she knows they were drinking last night, but she just waves them away with a smile.

Mo drives back to Wen's in near silence, all of them still waking up and Stella and Olivia a little hungover.

Olivia’s halfway down the driveway to her car when Mo leans back through her open window to talk to Stella. Olivia backtracks a bit so she’s within hearing distance.

“Text me,” Mo says. “We have to hang out again.” Stella nods.

“And text me!” Olivia calls, slightly too loud for the rather short distance between them. “Or I’ll text you. Or Mo or Wen will or something.” Stella rolls her eyes.

“Yes, someone will text someone. I got it. I expect to be spending most of my break with you guys, anyway.” Mo smiles at her, then backs away from her window.

“Hey!” Olivia exclaims just after Stella starts to roll up her window. She takes her finger off the button, raising her eyebrows. “Text us after the thing with your mom,” Olivia says, voice dropping with each step as she crosses back to Mo's car. “We’ll celebrate.” Stella’s face burns slightly, and she rolls her eyes in an effort to distract from it.

“Yeah, okay.” Mo presses back down on the control and as Mo's window starts to roll up, Stella turns to see Olivia put her hands on her hips like a middle-aged schoolteacher.

“I’m serious!” Stella just shakes her head slightly, horribly embarrassed and only partially because it makes her chest feel warm that they actually care.

They go to a party that night, at an old classmate’s house. It’s ridiculous how much everyone still wants to talk to them about the band; they weren’t cool until suddenly they were and it’s still just _weird_. Only Charlie and Olivia drink a lot.

Actually, Stella’s not really sure if Olivia actually drank that much or if she just has a low tolerance. Mo stays pretty sober because there’s no way her parents would be happy with her coming home inebriated, and Wen stays pretty sober to keep an eye on Olivia. Stella’s just pretty tired of hangovers, so she takes one shot and laughs at drunk people with Mo and Lyle from AV club, who _kind of_ has a beard, now. She drinks what may or may not be masquerading as a cosmo almost two hours later and sits on the couch with a guy she doesn’t recognize but knows she should.

She wakes up at a reasonable time (10:30) the next day and is downstairs and dressed by eleven. Her brothers are nowhere to be found, and while she definitely missed them while she was at college, she does not mind at all.

Her mom’s sitting at the kitchen table, looking over papers and books.

“Good morning,” she says without looking up as Stella walks in.

“Where are Timmy and Tommy?” Stella asks.

“Jackson’s house.” Stella takes a cup from the cupboard and fills it with water, then unscrews the cap on the Vitamin D. She shakes a pill into her palm and throws it into her mouth, drinking the entire glass of water.

“What’re you doing?” Stella asks, eying what look like recipes spread out over the table.

“I’m trying to make a family cookbook,” her mom explains. “Looking for recipes we use and such.” Stella nods, feeling like, yep, now’s the time. Except instead of saying anything she walks out of the kitchen and straight to her bedroom.

It’s less than half an hour before she leaves her room again, hungry, this time. (It might actually just be her stomach churning, but that’s embarrassing, so she’s definitely just hungry.) She walks back into the kitchen and pretends her hands aren’t shaking. She takes the bread from the fridge and only has minimal trouble with the twist tie.

Her mom’s flicking through a cookbook at the table while Stella spends a ridiculously long amount of time making toast, trying to work up the courage to open her mouth. All she can hear is the sound of thick pages turning; she’s been in here for more than five minutes, already.

“Hey, Mom?” she finally manages. She feels her mother’s eyes on her back as she continues to flutter around the kitchen. She doesn’t think she can look at her mom while she does this. She knows her voice sounds ridiculously unnatural as it is and she doesn’t know if she could even get the words out face-to-face. She leans against the sink, gripping the edge as she watches her knuckles turn yellow-white.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. For a while. It’s not bad, I just haven’t told you, because I haven’t, but I am now. I’ve been meaning to say it and now—”

“Stella, what is it?” her mom demands, soft and loving but leaving no room for nonsense. Or nervous rambling. “Is this about school?” she asks, and she sounds so earnest, and Stella can hear her mother pushing the cookbook back and turning in her chair. “Because you can always transfer if you don't like it there or something. We’ll figure it out.” She sounds worried now, and Stella just needs to do it, needs to tell her.

“No, Mom, it’s not that.” She bites her lip, quick and hard, hoping it will give her a boost of confidence.

“Sweetie, what is it?” her mother asks.

“I’m gay,” Stella says as she spins around to face her mother. Her mother freezes. The faucet drips. She hears a car drive by outside. Her mother’s phone buzzes with a text on the table.

“Stella,” she breathes, finally. “You had me so _worried_. I thought you were going to tell me you were dropping out or pregnant.” And honestly, this is better than Stella had let herself hope for, as pathetic as that sounds. She feels like she’s going to start crying again, but she clamps down on her lip and manages to keep the tears at bay.

“Oh, baby,” her mom says, standing up from her chair and crossing the kitchen. She pulls Stella into her and strokes her hair. Stella can’t make her arms move to hug her back; all of her effort is going into not crying. “I’m sorry that was so hard for you to tell me. You know I’d never love you any less, right?” Stella can’t speak, so she just nods into her mother’s shoulder.

She actually does text Olivia and Mo as soon as she gets back to her room and sets the cold toast on her desk, fingers still trembling and tears still threatening to fall. Mo responds literally right away, with a semi-lengthy text about how proud she is. Olivia responds seconds later with a selfie in which she’s grinning like a maniac, followed by about forty exclamation points.

 _Come over to my house tonight! We’ll celebrate!_ Olivia sends, followed by:

 _And by celebrate I mean drink. I’ll get champagne._ Stella feels like this is all a bit overdramatic, really, and that coming out to her mother definitely does not warrant this. (There is like a ninety percent chance it’s just an excuse to hang out with champagne, though.)

 _How are you getting champagne?_ Stella asks. She puts her phone down just as it buzzes with a response.

 _The store???_ And, okay, Stella definitely didn’t know Olivia had a fake ID, but that’s probably mostly because Stella just can’t imagine her with one. She doesn’t question it, though, and when Mo picks her up at 8:01 she only tells Stella she’s proud three times and once more when they get to Olivia’s.

It’s really not so much celebrating as it is drinking champagne and eating Chinese takeout while watching Rent and Hairspray. Which is perfectly fine with all of them, and even Mo drinks a hell of a lot. Olivia’s bed is small, so they build a blanket fort on her floor. Okay, so it’s really more like a pile of blankets by the time they actually lie down, but still.

It’s almost 2:30 and they’re all tired in that sleepy sort of way where everything feels kind of blurry. Which, coincidentally, is the same feeling that comes from drinking a shit ton of champagne, so they’re all overly smiley and soft.

They just lie next to each other, not talking. Olivia keeps laughing every couple of minutes, but it’s quiet other than that. Stella’s in the middle again. She mostly likes it because it’s a whole lot harder to feel left out. Not that Mo or Olivia would ever actively do anything to make her—or anyone, really—feel that way, but still.

They’ve probably been lying there for almost twenty minutes when Stella feels just as much as she hears Mo take a deep breath just as Olivia starts to giggle.

“Scott hit me,” she whispers, almost inaudible and sort of out of nowhere. Olivia’s laugh gets caught in her throat and she just ends up gasping. “That’s why I broke up with him. I know everyone always wondered.” Stella’s not really sure what to say, and while she knows Olivia would usually, she also knows Olivia’s pretty drunk. Which isn’t to say that she won’t say the exact right thing, it just means she needs time to think of it.

Before either of them can say anything, however, Mo continues. “And I think I have an eating disorder,” she says, and Stella feels Olivia stop breathing. Stella’s pretty sure she stops breathing, too. She didn’t think Mo would say that, even though both she and Olivia thought it was true.

“Mo, you know you’re beautiful, right?” Olivia eventually asks, sitting up to try to make eye contact.

“It’s not really a body image thing,” Mo rushes to explain, sitting up, as well. Stella sits up then, too, and shifts back slightly so that they’re almost in a circle. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Mo whispers, trying and failing to force a laugh.

“Because we’re your friends and we care about you _so much_ and we would do anything to help you?” Olivia says and, yep, there’s sober Olivia again. Or sobered up Olivia, at least. She pauses. “Did he hit you a lot?” Liv asks, eyes even softer than her voice. Mo shakes her head.

“No, it was just twice. And the first time was an accident.” Stella's eyebrows shoot probably all the way up her forehead and she opens her mouth to protest, because _accident her ass,_ but Mo laughs; it sort of sounds more like a sob, though.

“No, it really was. We were fighting and he threw his hands up to be dramatic and hit me in the nose. He didn’t mean to.” She stops, eyes on her lap. “And then I didn’t want to go out one night because I had homework—a study group—and he didn’t like that anyway, and he especially didn’t like it when he showed up at my house and I wasn’t there. And he got mad, and he hit me, and I broke up with him,” she whispers. Stella wants to hug her, but she doesn’t know if that’s the thing to do.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Mo says, louder now. “I don’t know why I… I just started with that so the other thing—the food thing—wouldn’t sound so bad,” she shrugs.

“Well that didn’t work,” Stella announces. “Both things just sounded bad.” Mo laughs at that, for real, but stops almost immediately.

“Is it a control thing?” Stella asks softly after a short pause. Mo shrugs, then nods. Olivia reaches across the purple comforter to take her hand.

“I guess.” Mo pauses like she doesn’t know what to say, or how to say it, at least. “Sometimes I forget to eat. And sometimes I don’t let myself eat until I’ve finished something. Or I don’t let myself eat if I do poorly on an assignment.” Stella can feel her heart cracking and she just wants Mo to be okay. Mo shrugs.

“What do you mean by poorly?” Liv asks, because actually, yeah; Mo’s definition of a bad grade is probably Stella’s definition of a good one. Mo shrugs again

“It depends. It’s different for each class and it’s not always the same. And sometimes I just only get to eat a little or something,” she elaborates. Olivia raises one eyebrow and Stella can’t tell if it’s a question or a challenge. “Anything below an eighty-five definitely,” Mo sighs. “It’s a case-by-case basis.” No one says anything for a bit, and Stella is pretty damn sure that she’d be able to hear it if a mouse ran across the floor downstairs.

“I don’t know how to stop,” Mo whispers, and she doesn’t start crying, but Olivia does; she tries to hide it, turns her face away from both of them while Stella reaches over to hug Mo, but the house is so damn quiet and it’s really a pointless effort.

“I’m sorry,” Mo says, and before either of them can cut her off she continues. “I just thought it would be easier to stop if people knew. My roommate… My roommate’s getting worried, and she’s really nice, so she’ll be helpful, probably, but I just thought it would help. Thank you.” Olivia’s sort of stopped crying by now, and she scoots across the floor to hug Mo, as well.

“Do your parents know?” Olivia asks, still piled onto Mo and Stella. Mo shakes her head against Stella’s neck.

“No. And I’m not going to tell them.” Both Mo and Stella can just _feel_ Olivia starting to protest, so Mo goes on. “My mom would just freak out and my dad would be pissed. It’ll be easier for me to do this if they don’t know.” Olivia sighs, clearly disagreeing with Mo’s decision but trusting her friend.

“Anyway,” Mo says, pulling away from her friends. “I just thought you guys should know, I guess. I know it’s not your problem.” Olivia stills, halfway back to her position.

“You know it’s okay to ask for help,” she says, soft and solid. Stella pretends not to see Mo’s eyes fill with tears; she knows how Mo feels about people seeing her cry. Mo takes a shuddery breath and seems to reset herself.

“Anyway,” Mo says, perking up significantly; it only seems half fake.  “Do we want to watch another movie or do we want to sleep?” Stella can’t help but laugh, even though it sounds a little watery.

“Brooklyn Nine-Nine?” Stella asks, mostly to lighten the mood. Mo groans, but they agree to watch an episode, anyway, and that soon turns into three.

Amy, Jake, and Terry are embarrassing themselves and hiding in Captain Holt’s bathroom when Mo says, “I love you guys and all.” Neither Stella nor Olivia answer, because they know that would probably make her uncomfortable, but Stella sees Olivia trying to hide a smile from the corner of her eye.

They wake up sort of earlier than any of them would like, but none of them say anything and by the time they’ve gotten out of bed it wouldn’t make sense to go back to sleep, anyway. They actually have clothes to change into this time, and Stella throws on a black and white button down that’s slightly too big and a pair of black skinny jeans and actually looks dressed.

Stella somehow forgot a jacket, which she didn’t notice last night because she was wearing long sleeves when Mo picked her up, but it’s a bit chillier this morning, and she’s wearing short sleeves, and she doesn’t have socks to wear with her silvery oxfords, so both her ankles _and_ arms are cold.

If Stella’s a bit underdressed, Olivia’s the opposite. She’s wearing a light pink sweater and fairly heavy coat, and  Mo’s the only one actually dressed for the weather in a short sleeve dress and tights with a scarf and denim jacket.

On their way out the door Olivia’s grandmother stops them to say hi and to give Mo and Stella some cookies—“Oh my goodness, I just realized I have some extra cookies. Would you like some?” she says, pulling two perfectly packed containers out of the pantry—in the stereotypical grandmother fashion. Stella and Mo both laugh and accept the cookies, and Olivia glares at her grandmother but still hugs her as they leave the house.

They go to a coffee shop when they leave Olivia’s, and Liv watches Mo eat a muffin for breakfast way too closely. Mo pretends not to notice, but Stella sees her roll her eyes behind her mug of tea and she can tell it’s making her uncomfortable and tries to side-eye Olivia to get her to stop. She does, eventually, and they have a fairly pleasant time. Stella gets her favorite drink from high school (coffee, almond, caramel, and chocolate) and a peanut butter, chocolate, and oat bar.

When Stella goes home she takes a nap. The three of them didn’t actually get to sleep until almost five, and they left for the coffee shop less than six hours later. It’s almost three when she wakes up, and she feels disoriented and groggy. She turns on her phone and has at least six texts from the Lemonade Mouth group chat, the most recent of which is from only two minutes ago. She scrolls through them without unlocking the phone, and smiles at how well they still get along, even after months away from each other and even over text.

The messages read:

C

_im eating with the fam 2night at some fancy place so i cant hang_

C

_till later at least_

W

_Cool we’re all gonna party without u_

O

_Shut up, Wen._

O

_We’re going to see Joy with Wen’s family and my grandma, anyway._

M

_Have fun!_

C

_u suk_

M

_Shut up, Charles._

M

_How about we just go see The Revenant tomorrow or something?_

O

_Yes!_

C

_?? whats that_

No one’s responded to Charlie’s last message, so Stella’s cold thumbs fly over to type out a reply.

S

_seriously??? wtf it’s leo dicaprio how can you NOT know what that is?_

As much as Stella would like to hang out with her friends and as much as it makes her feel stupid to spend time with her family, she knows it’ll be nice to actually be home tonight. She doesn’t know what they’re having for dinner, but hopefully her parents actually know she’s a vegetarian by now. They didn’t acknowledge it at Christmas, but there were a lot of people, so Stella doesn’t really know either way.

Stella shivers, then pulls her fleece blanket more tightly around her, burrowing under her comforter. Someone needs to turn the heat up in this house. She seriously regrets not putting on some sweatpants and socks or something because she knows _she’s_ going to have to turn the heat up if she wants it to be warmer.

She groans, and after just “two more minutes” under the covers, takes a deep breath and torpedos herself out of bed and across the room. The hall is even colder than her bedroom because of the open space. The thermostat is set at 64°, and the actual temperature is only one degree lower. To be fair, it probably wouldn’t feel so cold if she hadn’t just woken up, but someone should have turned the heat up this morning, anyway. She clicks it up to 67°, then retreats back to her bedroom.

She digs through her partially unpacked suitcase for a pair of black leggings that she slips on instead of her pants, then opens up her laptop. After spending more than half an hour scrolling through Netflix, she decides to watch Dallas Buyers Club, since she hasn’t seen it and it’s obviously going to be a super fun and relaxing experience.

Unsurprisingly, it’s not, but it’s clearly a great movie and it kills two hours. She’s pretty sure her dad and brothers get home during the time she’s watching it because she hears the door downstairs and a swell of voices, but she’s not positive.

When the movie’s over, she goes downstairs to get something to drink (hopefully apple juice) and the kitchen—the whole house, really—smells like soy sauce and onions. It’s so much warmer than it was a few hours ago. Her mom’s in the kitchen when she walks in, standing over the stove and lazily stirring a pan of what Stella assumes is partially caramelized onions. Stella opens the fridge and takes out the half-empty bottle of apple juice.

“What’s for dinner?” she asks, pouring the juice into a plastic superhero cup.

“Stir fry. I’m making yours with tofu. Don’t worry.” Stella rolls her eyes, but smiles anyway. “It’ll be about half an hour,” her mom says as Stella closes the fridge. Back in her room, she continues to look through Netflix. She feels like she should definitely watch another movie she hasn’t seen, and especially another movie that’s spectacularly good or something, but instead she puts on Stuck in Love, because she’s a sucker for a braided narrative and a will-they-won’t-they romance.

She gets through almost half the movie before she hears her mother calling up the stairs. She pauses the film and scoots back from her desk, leaving her laptop open. The house is still warm, but the floor is cold under her feet—especially the stairs—and it’s a relief to sit down and tuck her feet up under her. Everyone’s at dinner tonight, and Stella’s pretty sure it’s the first time that’s happened since Christmas.

Her Aunt Amy’s there, too, which she forgot about, somehow, but Amy’s definitely her favorite member of her dad’s family, so it’s not a bad thing. Her family never talks much during meals, but Amy’s making an effort. She asks Stella’s brothers about school and friends and all the other things one asks genius sixth graders.

Stella’s brothers get annoyed when Aunt Amy asks if they’ve learned how to graph lines in math yet, because they are in an _advanced_ math class (thank you very much), and they continue to go on about it until their mother very overtly glares at them to stop. Amy just laughs, though, and moves on to questioning Stella, which is probably good for both the general atmosphere and the patience of Stella’s parents, but Stella’s not good at talking about school. She answers the first few questions with just one word because it makes sense, but then Amy starts asking her what classes she’s taking and if she’s making friends and blah blah blah et cetera, et cetera.

“Have you been to any good restaurants in New York lately?” she asks. Stella shrugs, stabbing a piece of tofu with her fork.

“Not really. All my friends are broke college students with meal plans so.” She she shrugs again. Aunt Amy nods. Her dad takes a gulp of his water and manages to sound like he’s making out with someone or chewing a week old piece of gum. Stella had forgotten how much she hated that sound.

“Are your friends nice?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m friends with them. And I like nice people.”

“What about any guys? Do you have a boyfriend?” Stella can’t help but start to glance toward her mother, and though she’s not detected, she sees her mom looking back at her, much less subtly.

“No.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a nice man someday.” Stella winces, just slightly.

“Probably not,” she says, still looking at her plate but unable to hide the defiant edge to her voice.

“Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure you will. Why wouldn’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question.

“I’m gay,” Stella answers anyway. She sees her mother smiling out of the corner of her eye and it makes her chest swell; the entire room freezes nonetheless. Her dad’s fork is halfway to his mouth. Stella’s fingers clench into fists on their own accord and she feels her throat tightening.

“Actually,” Timmy says, smart-kid voice and all. “You’re a _lesbian_. Because you’re a girl.” Her mom laughs first, almost instantly, making eye contact across the table with her daughter right as it bursts from her lips. Amy starts laughing just after, and Stella’s _pretty_ sure her dad laughs too; it might just be a smile, but that’s almost a full out belly laugh from him. Tommy is clearing trying to act like he knows what the joke is, but Timmy just looks confused, and more than a little offended; her brothers aren’t used to being laughed at, and as much as she hates herself for it, she’s sort of glad for the change of pace.

No one mentions it for the rest of the night, but Amy does ask her if she has a girlfriend. She and her dad never really talk about it, and her brothers don’t acknowledge her any more than usual, so it’s not really a largely discussed topic. She doesn’t tell the others about it for a few days; it doesn’t come up, and she feels like it’d probably be ridiculous to bring it up out of the blue.

They see _The Revenant_ , which is spectacular, if disgusting, and then go to dinner, which is adequate. The next night they hang out and watch movies. The day after that they actually play some; turns out it’s not only Stella who’s still working on music. It’s a bit of a clash at first, though, because they all have their own stuff that they’ve been playing and they’re together again, now. Eventually, it works.

She tells Olivia the following day—mentions it in passing—while they’re eating lunch together. Liv squeals, drawing the attention of the entire restaurant (all five people) and Stella’s face burns. They meet up with Wen later, then Mo, and Olivia tells them both immediately. She tells Charlie when he joins them, too.

The rest of their break is relaxing in a laid back, too warm, coffee shop kind of way, and except for homework stuff for one class, Stella has nothing she needs to do. She hangs out with everyone, even her family, as much as she can. It’s nice to be home.

Her roommate gets back before she does, and she’s sitting on the floor with unopened Indian takeout when Stella walks in.

“I thought you’d be here like an hour ago,” Lily says without looking up from her phone, dirty blonde hair falling into her face. Stella smiles, dumps her bags on the floor, and plops down beside her. “The food’s probably cold.”

It is, but they eat it anyway and put on The Great British Bake Off. It’s not really socializing or bonding, but it’s how they spend time together as roommates and it’s almost tradition by now and it’s fun. Plus it’s pretty much the best show ever, what with the baking and the hosts and the British people.

“I told everyone,” Stella says, scrolling through Instagram and chewing on naan only a few minutes later. Lily looks up. “That I'm gay. I mean, not _everyone_ everyone, but, you know.” Lily nods.

“I’m proud of you.” She goes back to her phone, and that’s that, and Stella feels so much better than before.

Olivia still calls her weekly, and every time she asks Stella about girls and girlfriends and it makes Stella’s chest hurt and her heart swell every time without fail. She meets up with Mo whenever she can, which is three times this semester; she even goes all the way to Brown when she’s off but Mo’s still in class, once. They meet in New York again, of course; this time with friends. Mo tries to ditch Stella and leave her with one of Mo’s school friends. Stella doesn’t realize it’s a setup for almost twenty minutes, but she makes out with the girl in the bathroom, anyway.

They meet in New Haven another time, too, closer to the end of the year. Mo’s gained a little weight—not much, but some—and she eats her lunch and Stella calls Olivia as soon as she can to tell her.

Stella doesn’t get a girlfriend that year, but she does get closer to her friends, and she doesn’t feel like she’s disintegrating or crumbling or drowning when she talks to Olivia, anymore, and when she brings her roommate home for some of spring break, her mom is just as wary as she’d have been if Lily were a guy. Which is annoying, and makes Lily laugh, but still. It’s good.

Lemonade Mouth doesn’t get back together. Or, they don’t _really_ get back together, at least. They play a few gigs in their hometown that summer, and two in New York and one in L.A. and people come to them—like, a serious amount of people—but they don’t really get back together. Mo’s going to be a doctor unless she decides to go to law school, and Olivia’s going to be a teacher, and even if Wen and Charlie and Stella all do actually decide to pursue music, it won’t be with Lemonade Mouth.

They stay friends though, for real, and Stella’s almost positive that she’ll never be as close with any other group of people.


End file.
